


Fit-shaced

by DancingGrimm



Category: Toriko (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Comedy, Crushes, Drunkenness, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 15:16:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5053702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingGrimm/pseuds/DancingGrimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five tales of drunken Kings</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hair of the Bloodthisrty Wild Beast that Bit You

**Author's Note:**

> I sort of drifted away from reading Toriko a few years ago, but it got me back into fanfic after a long absence, and I'm grateful to it. The is the first of several stories I wrote a long time ago, which I'm reposting here, and which were previously only on FFN.  
> Enjoy :)

Toriko awoke with a light shining in his face, so bright that it penetrated through his eyelids and bored into his brain like a drill. He lifted his hands to cover his eyes and found them moving slowly and awkwardly, like they were twice as heavy as they should be. What had he been doing?

  
  


Ah. Drinking. That was it.

  
  


He peeled his eyes open to find that that impossibly bright light source was just the morning sun shining through the curtains. There was a foul taste in his mouth, and his stomach felt like there was something gross living in it. That was the worst thing about a hangover in his experience; it stopped him wanting to eat.

  
  


“What the fuck did I do?” he asked himself, bugged by how croaky his voice was.

  
  


“Toriko-san?”

  
  


Toriko turned his head too fast and made his brain flip about, but managed to focus his eyes enough to see Komatsu. He was sitting on the futon that Toriko usually stored in the spare room, the quilt piled around his waist, rubbing his tired-looking eyes.

  
  


“Are you feeling okay, Toriko-san?”

  
  


“...no”, Toriko croaked pitifully.

  
  


Komatsu nodded and got up, walked across the room to the dresser and lifted down a water jug and a glass, bringing both over to the bed.

  
  


“I hope you don’t mind that I stayed here,” he said as he poured, speaking deliberately softly. “You were already feeling bad by the time we got here and I was worried about leaving you alone. I’ve never seen you drunk before, you know? Even though you drink all the time.”

  
  


Instead of handing the full glass over, he waited for Toriko to prop himself up on his elbows, then held it up to his lips for him, waiting for him to drink. It was a good idea, Toriko suspected, as ‘up’ seemed to be about fifteen degrees off where it normally was.

  
  


“What happened?” he asked, as Komatsu refilled the glass.

  
  


“Um...well, you and Mansam-san were drinking together and he had a bottle of something home made, and...ah...”

  
  


“We got wasted?”

  
  


“Yes.”

  
  


“Serves me right. I should have learned the lesson about Mansam’s homebrew years ago. Never let him talk you into drinking it, Komatsu.”

  
  


“Is it that bad?”

  
  


“Well, it tastes pretty good...but you’d probably die.”

  
  


“Ah, okay then.”

  
  


Komatsu waited for Toriko to lie back against the headboard, then refilled the glass and put it into his hand. As soon as he took it, Toriko got a weird feeling...there was something he’d had been carrying...or maybe just holding, last night, but for some reason he didn’t have it now. It felt like it was something really important. What the hell could it have been? Shit, had he lost his credit card again? No, that didn’t seem right...

  
  


“Toriko-san, I’m going to make you something plain to eat, and see if I can come up with something to settle your stomach, okay?”

  
  


“Yeah, thanks Komatsu.”

  
  


Komatsu pulled his pants on over his undies (knife design this time) and left the room, being careful to move his feet quietly. A bird started singing cheerfully outside and Toriko resisted the urge to open the window and yell at it.

  
  


What had he been holding, then? He hated when his hangover killed his memory like this, but it always happened. He shut his eyes and tried to recreate what the mysterious object had felt like. A smooth, round-ish shape, not quite large enough to fill his hands. What could that be?

  
  


Outside he heard a canine whimper, and then the sound of the back door opening. Komatsu’s voice reached his ears, speaking soothingly to Terry.

  
  


“It’s okay, he’s not really sick. He’ll be back to normal by this afternoon, I promise. You’ll see... Don’t be sad Terry. Aw, come here.”

  
  


Terry started making the happy noise reserved for when somebody played with his ears and Toriko couldn’t help but smile, even though it felt like the corners of his mouth were directly pulling on his brain.

  
  


How had Komatsu become so kind? He always seemed to know what exactly people needed and then just handed it over to them, even when it caused him trouble. Toriko was pretty sure that this was Komatsu’s only day off work this week, yet here he was, spending his free time looking after his hung over partner. Even now, he could smell something cooking downstairs and smiled a little selfishly, warmed by the knowledge that all of Komatsu’s talent and all of his kindness were at his disposal.

  
  


Maybe Komatsu remembered what it was he’d been carrying? Had it been...warm?

  
  


Komatsu came back up the stairs carrying a tray that held a plate piled high with slices of toast and a coffee mug with a few wisps of steam rising from it. He put the tray down on the dresser and brought Toriko the mug first.

  
  


“Here, this is a family recipe. A hang-over remedy. It’s really good!”

  
  


Toriko took the mug and sniffed at the contents, astonished when he couldn’t identify what had gone into the concoction beyond...tomato? Brandy? _Pineapple_?

  
  


“What the hell-”

  
  


“There’s a little ‘hair of the dog’ in it, along with some other things. It’s best when it’s hot, so hurry up and drink it before it clots, okay?”

  
  


“ _Clots_? What’s in it?”

  
  


Komatsu smiled at him and tapped his finger against the side of his nose. Toriko sighed and drank the stuff down. It didn’t taste quite as bad as he’d feared, but it was still pretty much the worst thing Komatsu had ever fed him. He grabbed the glass of water from the window sill and swirled some around in his mouth to get rid of the taste, and by the time he was sure it was gone Komatsu was at his elbow with the plate.

  
  


“Feel any better?” he asked.

  
  


Toriko took stock. Actually...yeah. His stomach felt less swishy, though his head still hurt.

  
  


“Yeah, thanks. You should patent that stuff, you know?”

  
  


“Nah,” Komatsu replied, and settled the plate of toast on Toriko’s lap. “See if you can finish all of that and I’ll make you something a bit more nourishing, okay?”

  
  


“Okay.”

  
  


He got through about half the toast while Komatsu bustled about, pulling the quilt off the futon and folding it neatly. His mind strayed back to his little mystery; what the hell had he had in his hands?

  
  


Again he tried to picture it, a smooth, small warm shape, not quite filling his hands but sitting comfortably in them. Trying to recreate the feeling, he held his hands out in front of him, in the same position that they had held his mystery thing, and looked to see that they were cupped side by side, the heels of his palms pressed together.

  
  


What could that have been?

  
  


Then he looked over at Komatsu, now bending over to roll up the futon, and experienced a sudden flash of memory.

  
  


“Komatsu?”

  
  


“Yes?”

  
  


“When I was drunk...”

  
  


“What is it Toriko-san?”

  
  


“Did I feel you up?”

  
  


“Nyah!” Komatsu cried, falling over the futon. He recovered himself quickly and scuttled over to the bedroom door on all fours. “Ahaha, I’ll go and make you some more food Toriko-san!” he said hurriedly, and was gone.

  
  


“...okay,” Toriko replied, and ate the rest of his toast, quietly but passionately hating Mansam and his stupid homebrew.

 


	2. Stupid Otouto

A week after Toriko’s adventures with inebriation, Komatsu was still mortified. He knew he was being silly really, that it was just a stupid drunken... _thing_ , but it kept preying on his mind, jumping out of his thoughts at him when he least expected it. He was sure that that was what was making him feel so edgy around Toriko lately. It seemed like every time he turned around, his partner was staring at him, and the only explanation for it was his own imagination playing tricks on him.

  
  


Today’s outing with Toriko and Coco had been a blessing though. They’d gotten along fine all the way to Gourmet Town, and had parted ways halfway through the day, Komatsu to visit Setsuno-san and the others to explore a few new restaurants that had sprung up. Setsuno had been as enlightening and curious a conversational partner as ever, and was good enough to sample a few of Komatsu’s latest creations, offering him a taste of one of her famous recipes and a little friendly critique to boot. Thus, by early evening, Komatsu was feeling quite peaceful and happy.

  
  


It was startling how much the ring of his phone made him jump.

  
  


“Komatsu, it’s me,” came Toriko’s voice. “You’ve gotta get over here, this is fantastic!”

  
  


“What’s fantastic, Toriko-san?”

  
  


“It’s Coco, he-” Toriko’s next words were garbled with laughter and it took him a few seconds to compose himself. “Just come over here. You’ll love it!” He finished, and seemed to be about to hang up.

  
  


“Wait, Toriko-san! Where are you?”

  
  


“Oh! Right! Bar Heavy Lodge. You remember how to get there?”

  
  


“Yes, I’ll be there soon.”

  
  


“Cool. Bye!”

  
  


“Toriko wants you to meet him?” Setsuno asked from where she was putting plates away into a cabinet. Komatsu nodded and slid the last few utensils into the basin of hot water.

  
  


“He said that Coco is doing something fantastic. I don’t dare wonder what it might be,” he admitted.

  
  


Setsuno smirked and shook her head. It occurred to Komatsu to ask what she was thinking, but he knew he’d only get a cryptic answer at best.

  
  


He finished the washing up and thanked Setsuno for her time, then got a taxi at the rank on the corner and went over to the bar. It was much as it had been the last time he’d seen the place, a little shabby perhaps, but somehow very solid, looking almost like it had grown there rather than been built. He pushed the door open and, as he should have expected, got a very different reception to that he’d received last time. With no Toriko by his side, the stares directed at him were variously suspicious and mocking, making him cringe a little. Maybe he should just leave Toriko and Coco to it...

  
  


“Hey Komatsu, over here!” Toriko’s voice bellowed, and Komatsu spotted him, sitting at the bar, and set off across the crowded room with relief. There was a large crowd gathered around a table in the centre of the room, though he couldn’t see who sat at it. Come to think of it, he couldn’t see Coco either.

  
  


He hopped up onto a bar stool next to his partner, who was halfway through a burger, a platter loaded down with the same at his elbow.

  
  


“Hey Komatsu, here, did the old lady feed you?” he asked, pushing the platter towards him.

  
  


“A little, yes, but thanks,” Komatsu replied, taking a burger. He’d been so thrilled to be eating Setsuno’s cooking that he hadn’t realised how little he’d actually eaten, and the burger was very good. Toriko called Morijii over and ordered some drinks for them. Komatsu glanced around, still seeing no sign of Coco.

  
  


“Toriko-san, what exactly was it that Coco-san did?” he asked.

  
  


Toriko crammed the remaining half of a burger into his mouth, then pointed across the room towards the crowd. Squinting at the faces of the gathered people, Komatsu searched for a familiar face, not understanding until he caught sight of a glinting earring and realised that Coco was one of the people _at_ the table. And opposite him...

  
  


“Is that Zombie-san?” he asked, astonished.

  
  


“Yep,” Toriko replied, grinning. “He decided that Coco was showing off, and challenged him to a drinking competition. I don’t think he realised who he put himself up against.”

  
  


Komatsu nodded dazedly, recalling how long it had taken Zombie to realise who Toriko was.

  
  


“Want to take a closer look?” Toriko asked.

  
  


“Okay.”

  
  


They headed towards the crowd and Toriko bulled his way through the throng of people, pushing Komatsu ahead of him, until they were at the front of the gathering, a couple of feet away from the table. Coco and Zombie each had a large bottle of something with dense foreign text on the label, along with a single shot glass. As one, they lifted the bottles and filled the glasses, then knocked back the shots. But while Zombie wheezed and scowled as he swallowed the liquor, Coco drank his down easily, cool as a cucumber. His face was composed and faintly smiling, while Zombie’s was flushed red and tense. Komatsu had to admit that Toriko had been right, this was pretty interesting to watch.

  
  


“Toriko-san, can Coco resist alcohol the way he does with poisons?” Komatsu asked.

  
  


“Well, I never asked him, but maybe. It doesn’t seem to be having much affect on him now.”

  
  


Komatsu looked around the crowd and saw money changing hands here and there as people took sides and bickered amongst themselves. By the tension in the group, it seemed that things had been going on for some time, and by the look of Zombie, it would probably be over soon. Toriko seemed to think the same, if the way he kept cackling was any indication.

  
  


Sure enough, after a few more shots, Zombie blinked very hard, made a small noise like a deflating air mattress, and unceremoniously slid out of his seat. A roar went up from the crowd, of elation in some quarters and annoyance in others as people began hurriedly calling bets and collecting winnings. Zombie’s two followers rushed over, all ‘Zonge-sama, Zonge-sama’, while Coco coolly rose from his seat and accepted various congratulations, evidently pleased enough to allow several people to slap his shoulders, before he turned towards the bar, gathering Toriko and Komatsu with him as he went by.

  
  


Morijii saw him reaching for his wallet as they walked over and waved him off. “You don’t need to pay for that booze, Coco. My cut of the bets’ll cover it and then some.”

  
  


Coco smiled sleepily at him, and waited contentedly by the door with Komatsu as Toriko settled the tab for his food and chatted with a couple of acquaintances.

  
  


“How do you feel, Coco-san?” Komatsu asked.

  
  


“Oh, you know...” Coco replied vaguely, and Komatsu felt a little tug of worry.

  
  


Toriko finished up at the bar and joined them as they left, he and Coco walking on either side of Komatsu as they made their way along the bustling late-night streets of the city. The train station was only twenty minutes walk away and the evening was pleasantly warm, the tang of early summer in the air. His companions peaceably quiet, it occurred to Komatsu to ask the question he’d been thinking about.

  
  


“Coco-san, can you resist alcohol the same way as poisons?” Toriko glanced at him as he spoke but didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he asked.

  
  


“Well, not really. I can hold off the affects of it, but only for so long. Then they catch up with me.”

  
  


“Really? Well, that’s pretty useful, I guess. How long does it take to...Coco-san?”

  
  


Coco coughed, staggered, then slumped sideways, bumping into Komatsu and almost falling on him, before Toriko managed to grab his shoulders and hold him up.

  
  


“’Bout now...” Coco slurred, a dizzy smile appearing on his face as his eyelids fluttered, and Toriko burst out laughing.

  
  


“I haven’t seen you like this in years!” he crowed happily, and leant down to grab the barely coherent Coco around the legs.

  
  


“Wait, Toriko-san! Don’t put him over your shoulder!” Komatsu cried.

  
  


Toriko stopped, letting Coco slump against him. “Why?”

  
  


“He’d hate it, there’re so many people around, somebody would be sure to take a picture and he’d hate that more. Surely there’s a more dignified way to get him there?”

  
  


Toriko considered it and Komatsu could practically hear his brain working. A few people on the street had snapped photos of Coco already today and it had visibly annoyed him. Toriko seemed to be unsure though.

  
  


“Also, he might be sick down your back,” Komatsu added, and that sealed the deal.

  
  


They managed to get Coco’s arm across Toriko’s shoulders and Toriko, with one arm around Coco’s torso, was able to hold him more or less on his feet, so it looked like they were walking normally, if a little unsteadily. Komatsu ran to the train station ahead of them and got their tickets, then helped Toriko manhandle Coco into the train and onto a seat. The carriage was nearly empty at this time of night and they got seats that faced each other so they could all sit together, Komatsu next to Coco and Toriko taking up as much of the opposite seat as he could.

  
  


Coco dopily draped his arm, after a few tries, around Komatsu and sighed.

  
  


“Are you okay Coco-san?” Komatsu asked.

  
  


Coco sighed again. “Drinking always makes me feel...lonely,” he admitted, a sadness in his voice that led Komatsu to reach up and take hold of the hand dangling over his shoulder. “It’s nice to be out with you two, but it makes me feel a little sad too. I’d like a partner, I think...”

  
  


“You’ll find somebody,” Toriko told him softly.

  
  


“Maybe.” He seemed to be thinking hard for a few minutes. “Do you have brothers and sisters Komatsu?”

  
  


“No.”

  
  


Coco sighed again. “It’s nice to have them. It’s nice to have memories of my little brothers when we were kids. My three otouto. They were so cute, even Toriko. I’m not quite sure where that went...”

  
  


Toriko laughed a little.

  
  


“You know, I’m only a little older than the others, but when you’re kids, that means a lot more. For a while there they all looked up to me, and it was so good to be able to help take care of them. I remember when we were children and Zebra was already so grumpy. He always wanted whatever everybody else had, just because it was theirs. He always stole Sunny’s things because he got most upset...and Sunny was like...everything was an argument or a negotiation with him, _everything_. Getting up in the morning, going to bed at night, eating, bathing... I remember I used to brush his hair for him and he’d just put his head in my lap and fall asleep...They were such pains, but still...nice memories...”

  
  


He was smiling now, a warm expression on his usually cool face, his eyes looking somewhere very far away.

  
  


“What was Toriko-san like?” Komatsu asked, glancing between Coco and his partner, wondering if he’d overstepped a line. Toriko seemed to be at ease though.

  
  


Coco smiled even wider. “He was adorable when he was a little toddler. He’d go crawling about on all fours, making weird noises at people...like a puppy.” Komatsu giggled and tried to hide it behind his hand. “Then he got a bit bigger and...wow...he was so _dumb_!”

  
  


Coco started laughing then, shaking Komatsu with the arm still around him. Tears were squeezing out the corners of his eyes and his cheeks were flushing red.

  
  


“He...he did such stupid things! He couldn’t...he never...you wouldn’t believe...Ha! My stupid otouto!” Coco collapsed into gales of laughter, the unprecedented sight drawing weird looks from the few other people in the train carriage and making Komatsu laugh out loud, no matter how hard he tried to keep it in.

  
  


He glanced over at Toriko and saw that he looked annoyed. A little jolt of worry shot through Komatsu, though he couldn’t quite stop himself from continuing to laugh. Then Toriko’s glowering face turned to him and...his eyes widened, softened. Komatsu knew his partner pretty well, but he couldn’t tell what was going on in his thoughts, not now.

  
  


“Stupid otouto,” Coco murmured again, and Toriko’s eyes were still fixed quietly on Komatsu’s when his de facto big brother flopped sideways and fell asleep, his cheek resting on the top of Komatsu’s head.

 


	3. Wining and Dining (and Whining)

Rin wouldn’t usually have asked Komatsu for a favour given that she didn’t really know him that well, but this was an exception and she was sure he wasn’t the type of man who’d read more into her request than he was supposed to. Sick to death of being at the mercy of Mansam’s ideas of what constituted ‘food’ while she was at Biotope 1, she’d decided it was finally time for her to learn to cook properly, make her own meals for a change. And, well, everybody was so big on Komatsu being such an amazing cook, she’d decided it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

  
  


He’d cheerfully turned up to Sunny’s house (where she stayed on her days away from work) bearing bags of ingredients at seven sharp that evening, all set to start her lesson. She had to admit, she’d sort of doubted how good he was given all the hyperbole, but it was apparent from the start that it was all true.

  
  


To begin with, he’d obviously remembered that she liked sweet foods and had chosen a menu fittingly, including pork in a slightly sweet citrus sauce, tangy roasted vegetables and a chocolatey dessert that made her mouth water from just the description of it. Then he’d further impressed her by immediately judging her level of ability and calmly adjusting the way he talked her through the cooking process, not too complicated but not at all patronising.

  
  


He led her through the recipes by example, showing her each little process then letting her do it herself. He even let her use his special Melk knife, which was a surprisingly eye-opening experience (she accidently cut the chopping board in half with it, but they had another one so it was all good).

  
  


By the time the food was all ready and they sat down to eat it, Rin felt so happy and accomplished, so comfortable in Komatsu’s company, that she decided to get one of the bottles of wine that Sunny kept stashed away in the back of the pantry.

  
  


That had been a mistake. Neither of them drank often and, while they were okay during the meal with the food to soak up the alcohol, the second bottle kind of kicked their asses.

  
  


She couldn’t really remember whose idea it had been to sit on the kitchen floor, but it had been a good one. The tiles were surprisingly comfy, and it felt pleasantly intimate to just sit and chat with Komatsu like this. The plate with the remains of the triple layer chocolate ginger torte was on the floor between them and, though they’d started off being civilised and cutting slices from it, they now each reached over every couple of minutes to carve a bite off it with their forks.

  
  


“He said that Toriko used to walk around on all fours like a puppy and make puppy noises,” Komatsu was telling her slurringly, and she giggled, all too able to visualise it.

  
  


“Toriko’s so silly.”

  
  


“Yeah. You like him though, right?”

  
  


“You...you noticed?”

  
  


“Um...yeah.”

  
  


She sighed and let her head fall back against the wall.

  
  


“I liked him forever, but I don’t think he even knows. I ought to start trying to get over him,” she admitted. It sounded like a good idea, actually. Why could she only put things like that together when she was drunk?

  
  


“He’s a jerk,” Komatsu sighed, and she sat forward, surprised, to look at him properly. That wasn’t at all like Komatsu.

  
  


He glanced over at her. “Not all the time. Not much of the time at all, actually,” he admitted. “Just sometimes.”

  
  


“Like when?” Rin asked, fascinated.

  
  


“Well, for a start, he said goodbye to me at the train station last week in a really weird way, and he hasn’t said more than two words to me since then. It’s weird, even when I call him he gets all breathless, like he’s scared. And there’s worse than that.”

  
  


“Like what?”

  
  


“Like when he’s drunk.”

  
  


“Oh my God! You saw him when he was drunk? I only heard about it from Mansam!”

  
  


“You should be glad, he was such a _pain_!”

  
  


“What did he do?”

  
  


Komatsu sighed again and dropped his head back against the wall with a _thunk_. Rin had to bite her lip; Komatsu was adorable when he was drunk, and very informative. “He fell all over the place, and you know how much he weighs, so I had no chance of helping him up. Then when I finally got him home he got out of the cab and right away started chewing on the doorstep.”

  
  


“The doorstep?”

  
  


“You remember it’s made of chocolate?”

  
  


“Oh, right.”

  
  


“So it took me a while to convince him to stop and then he decided he wanted to give me a tour around his new house. I said he didn’t have to because I’d been to the house warming and I could remember it all, but he picked me up and started showing me all these random bits of the walls.”

  
  


Rin giggled, wishing sorely that she’d been around to see it.

  
  


“Then he started to tell me that I was cute and when I told him not to be dumb he grabbed my ass.”

  
  


“What?!”

  
  


“He grabbed my ass! Groped it! I was mortified, but then he went all...dopey. So I managed to get him into bed and slept the night on a futon in case he got sick or anything.”

  
  


“That jerk!” Rin cried.

  
  


“I know! And the next day he didn’t remember a thing about it! Well, not at first...”

  
  


“You know, the number of times I practically gave him a written invitation to feel _my_ ass, and would he? No!”

  
  


“Because he’s a jerk!”

  
  


“And I have a really nice ass!”

  
  


“I know, I saw!”

  
  


“Not to say you don’t, ‘cause you do, but for heaven’s sake!”

  
  


“I know!”

  
  


“So I wanted him to touch mine but he wouldn’t-“

  
  


“And I didn’t want him to touch mine but he did,” Komatsu finished.

  
  


“Stupid Toriko, he doesn’t get it,” Rin snarled.

  
  


“I know! You’re so pretty Rin!” Komatsu cried.

  
  


“You’re so cute Komatsu!” Rin cried.

  
  


They’d just flung their arms around one another, close to tears from the intense emotion of so much sympathy and booze, when the door to the kitchen flew open, and in the aperture stood Sunny, resplendent in his silk pyjamas.

  
  


“What the fuck is going on in here?!” he yelled. “I’m tryin’ to get my beauty sleep!”

  
  


“Sunny-san,” Komatsu said faintly from where he was clasped to Rin’s bosom, “What’s that on your face?”

  
  


“It’s a face pack, Matsu.” Sunny replied with an annoyed sigh. “That isn’t the point.”

  
  


“He thinks it’ll stop him from getting wrinkles,” Rin hissed in a stage whisper. Sunny frowned.

  
  


“Making that face will make it worse,” Komatsu informed him sagely.

  
  


“Shut up!” Sunny snapped.

  
  


Rin threw a wine cork at him.

  
  


Steaming mad and apparently not inclined to argue any further, Sunny flicked off the lights and slammed the door, leaving Komatsu and Rin sitting in the pitch dark kitchen, still hugging each other. It took them a few seconds to gather their wits.

  
  


“Rin-san? Where’s your hand?” Komatsu asked.

  
  


“Oh! Sorry.”

 


	4. Drown Your Sorrows, or Maybe Just Beat Them Up

The central building of Biotope 1 was depressing at night. The guest room Sunny had been given was poorly lit and plain, and between his dreary surroundings and the lonely quiet of the building around him, he was really feeling quite low.

  
  


Fortunately, Mansam hadn’t become any more imaginative about hiding his alcohol stashes in the intervening years since Sunny had been living here for training, and after only two tries he moved a ceiling panel in the hallway outside a storeroom and found a few bottles of...wow, pretty decent stuff.

  
  


Back in his room, steadily becoming cosily drunk, he realised his error when he heard the thump on the door.

  
  


Zebra was here. Living here, if Sunny remembered correctly, so Mansam could keep an eye on him.

Zebra had heard the clinking bottles.

Damn him.

  
  


Sunny reached out a tendril of hair and pulled the door open before Zebra could bash it off its hinges and the big jerk stooped to squeeze through the normal-people sized door.

  
  


“Why are the lights off?” he asked, as his head bumped against the light fitting.

  
  


“I’m feelin’ maudlin,” Sunny answered, leaning back against the wall behind the bed.

  
  


“Fuckin’ drama queen,” Zebra muttered. He pointed at the empty bottle that lay on the bed clothes next to Sunny’s leg. “You got more of that?”

  
  


“Nope.”

  
  


“Yeah you do, I heard the clinking. Gimme.”

  
  


“Get your own!”

  
  


“I want yours. Gimme.”

  
  


“Fuck off!”

  
  


Zebra gave Sunny a narrow glare, then leant down to look under the bed, fished out a bottle, and dropped into the armchair in the corner, a triumphant look on his face. Sunny scowled but was pretty sure he couldn’t get the bottle away from him without getting injured. And Zebra always aimed for his face.

  
  


They drank in silence for a few minutes, until Sunny decided he wasn’t happy.

  
  


“Why do you have to sit in here?” he snapped. “You’ve got your own room.”

  
  


“Yeah, well...” Zebra said, then he smirked again and took another drink.

  
  


“You’re just in here ‘cause you know you annoy me!” Sunny yelled.

  
  


“Think a lot of yourself, don’t you,” Zebra sneered. “Not everything’s about you.”

  
  


“Bastard!” Sunny receded and slumped back onto the bed. “Aren’t you even gonna ask me why I’m upset?”

  
  


“Nope.”

  
  


“It’s ‘cause of Matsu.”

  
  


“...What?”

  
  


Sunny sighed. “He and Rin got drunk together at my house the other night. I heard them talkin’ about Toriko.”

  
  


“You eavesdropped on your little sister?”

  
  


“Like you can talk. But no, I overheard something that worried me.”

  
  


“What, is she fucking Komatsu?”

  
  


“No! Where the fuck did _that_ idea come from? Sicko! Nah, I think somethin’s maybe started with Matsu and Toriko.”

  
  


“ _Something_?”

  
  


“ _Somethin’_ involving Matsu sleeping the night at Toriko’s and Toriko’s hands gettin’ busy. I didn’t hear all of it though.”

  
  


“Shit,” Zebra replied, and even if Sunny didn’t want him around, he could at least understand.

  
  


“Oh Matsu, let me count the ways,” he sighed.

  
  


“What ways?” Zebra asked.

  
  


“The ways in which he’d be better off with me!”

  
  


“Right. You. _That’d_ work.”

  
  


“...jerk.”

  
  


Silence reigned for a few more minutes. Sunny was pretty sure he was drunk, very drunk. The bed, which he knew to be badly sprung and covered in low quality sheets, suddenly felt incredibly comfortable.

  
  


“I think we gotta give him up,” he said quietly, his misery welling. “Toriko’s never gonna let him go.”

  
  


“Fuck that,” Zebra replied. He dropped his empty bottle on the floor and rose to reach another out from under the bed. This time he had to hold onto the box spring to stand back up again.

  
  


“He’s so fuckin’ _cute_ ,” Sunny sighed. “Those big eyes...”

  
  


“Hrm.”

  
  


“The things I could do to that guy...”

  
  


“You’re a cocky fucker, you know that?” Zebra snarled, still holding on to the foot of the bed.

  
  


Sunny grinned, some part of his brain deciding he was ready to be cheered up. “Cocky fucker? How d’you know what kind of fucker I am? You been peekin’?”

  
  


Zebra snarled at him.

  
  


“You’re provocative, you know? You ought to watch that or people are gonna get the wrong idea.”

  
  


“Shut up.”

  
  


“Unless you _want_ me to get the wrong idea,” he added, and ended up breathless with laughter at the horrified look Zebra gave him. “Aw, don’t be like that Zebra, come and sit down next to me,” Sunny choked out past the laughter, and he patted the bed.

  
  


“Fuckin’ disgustin’” Zebra growled, and Sunny gave him an annoyed flick with the ends of his hair.

  
  


That had been a bad idea. Drunk Zebra was even more volatile than regular Zebra and before Sunny knew what was happening, they were on the floor next to the bed, grappling and yelling. Neither of them really landed a punch of any merit, not after the amount of near-pure alcohol they’d just drunk, but still.

  
  


It took eleven Biotope 1 security guards to separate them.

  
  


The next day the head of security had words with Director Mansam about dismantling his alcohol stashes.

 


	5. You Only Tell Me You Love Me When...

Komatsu felt very worried.

  
  


It wasn’t often that Toriko asked him to meet up at his house. They usually met at the train station in the city, as it was easier for Komatsu to get to. It wasn’t unusual, of course, for Komatsu to drop by Toriko’s place. Just, usually, they were on their way to somewhere else, and Toriko told him _where_ they were going.

  
  


Nearly two weeks since they’d been to Gourmet Town with Coco, and they’d hardly spoken since, Toriko making excuses to hang up quickly every time Komatsu called him, acting so evasively that it made Komatsu want to cry. And now, suddenly, this unprecedented request that he show up to Toriko’s house.

  
  


Komatsu knew it was stupid, but he felt like he was about to get dumped. At least, he hoped it was stupid. They _had_ been meeting a lot more people recently, a lot of interesting and clever people. Could Toriko have decided he wanted a different person for his partner?

  
  


His heart in his throat and worry making his stomach churn, Komatsu climbed the teeth-marked doorstep and knocked on the door. Toriko opened it straight away, making Komatsu wonder if he’d been waiting just inside for him.

  
  


“Thanks for coming. Come on in,” Toriko said. He looked nervous, which did nothing to dispel Komatsu’s unease.

  
  


“What’s happening, Toriko-san?” he asked.

  
  


Toriko opened his mouth to speak, then a thoughtful look crossed his face, followed by unease. Then he simply waved Komatsu into the kitchen and followed him in silently.

  
  


“Nothing’s happening...I guess,” he said vaguely, shooing Komatsu towards one of the wooden chairs at the large dining table. Feeling no less worried, Komatsu climbed into the chair, trying to get comfortable even though his feet were dangling several inches off the ground.

  
  


“I-is something wrong, Toriko-san?” he asked, and Toriko must have heard the worry in his voice because he immediately shook his head.

  
  


“No, nothing’s wrong Komatsu, don’t worry. There’s just...I’ve got to do something I’ve never done before. And I’m kind of nervous.” He pulled the chair opposite Komatsu away from the table as if to sit in it, then abruptly changed his mind and turned to open one of the tightly packed cabinets.

  
  


“What kind of thing?” Komatsu asked as his partner rummaged around. “What can I do to help?”

  
  


Toriko emerged from the cabinet with a large bottle and picked up a clean glass from beside the sink. Komatsu looked at the bottle as Toriko thumped it onto the table. The text was too small for him read, but the fumes that reached his nostrils when Toriko unscrewed the lid were almost enough to knock him off his seat.

  
  


Toriko poured a shot into the glass and knocked it back with a grimace.

  
  


Truly worried now, Komatsu leaned forward to make Toriko look at him. “Please,” he said. “Tell me what I can do.”

  
  


Toriko studied his face for a long moment, opened his mouth...and once again failed to speak, reaching for the bottle to pour and drink another shot.

  
  


Komatsu felt his hands shaking. “Toriko-san, do you...do you want me to stop being your partner?” he asked, horrified when he heard his voice quiver.

  
  


“No!” Toriko cried, astounded. “No, God, how could you even _think_ that? Komatsu, as far as I’m concerned, you’re my partner until _you’re_ sick of _me_ , okay?”

  
  


“Okay,” Komatsu sniffed, wiping tears out of the corners of his eyes. “So...so what is it?”

  
  


Toriko sighed. “I had this thing lately. Like, a realisation. A...umm...”

  
  


“A revelation?”

  
  


“Yeah, that’s it!” Toriko replied, smiling broadly. That comforted Komatsu for a moment, until Toriko once again grabbed the bottle and downed another shot.

  
  


“Is it something to do with drinking?” he asked uncertainly.

  
  


“Nope, this is all ‘cause I’m nervous. I’m bad at stuff like this” He put down the glass and bottle but kept hold of them, sliding them around distractedly on the surface of the table. His eyes lowered, he took a deep breath.

  
  


“I’m in love with you.”

  
  


“...l-l...w...”

  
  


“I love you Komatsu,” Toriko said again. Then he pushed the glass to one side and took a swig directly out of the bottle.

  
  


“Wait,” Komatsu yelped, standing in the chair and lunging across the table to grab the bottle. There was a brief struggle, then Toriko let go and Komatsu thumped back into his seat, bottle in hand.

  
  


“You...do you mean it?” he asked weakly.

  
  


“Yeah.”

  
  


“I...you...Toriko-san, I think you may be confusing this with something else. You-”

  
  


“No.”

  
  


“You...got a little drunk and things got out of hand and now you’re confused. A-aren’t you?”

  
  


“No.”

  
  


“...oh.”

  
  


Toriko sighed. “Is it really that bad?”

  
  


“No! No...I don’t think so.”

  
  


“Look, it’s not like I expect you to feel the same way, okay? Just, I had to tell you.” Toriko’s face was serious and sad in a way that Komatsu didn’t think he’d ever seen before.

  
  


“You had a revelation?” he asked. “What was it?”

  
  


Toriko seemed surprised to be asked, but he thought about it briefly before replying. “You remember when Coco was drunk and we were on the train?”

  
  


“Yes.”

  
  


“You just...you listened to all that shit he said and you were so...happy.”

  
  


Komatsu recalled with a shock the sudden soft gaze that Toriko had fixed him with as he laughed, and suddenly felt thunderstruck.

It was true.

Toriko was in love with him.

  
  


And, sitting there, staring across the table at Toriko’s forlorn face a part of his mind began to wonder if, having realised this, it was possible that he loved Toriko too. If it was possible that the warm admiration and profound trust he had for his partner could be something more.

  
  


It wasn’t, not now.

  
  


But that could change, very easily. And all he would have to do was allow it to happen.

  
  


Toriko was looking depressed, staring longingly at the bottle in Komatsu’s hands and Komatsu felt that, had Toriko not been feeling so unsure of himself, he would probably be staring longingly at Komatsu instead.

  
  


“Toriko-san?” he began, putting the bottle back on the table, well out of his partner’s reach. “If...if you love me, does that mean that you want to be with me?”

  
  


“Yeah,” Toriko replied morosely.

  
  


“Well, you know...I’m old fashioned, I suppose. Things like this should be done properly. And I don’t want to have to pretend to people that we aren’t...together.”

  
  


As he spoke, Toriko’s eyes had become wide, fixed on Komatsu’s blushing face, and when he finished a smile spread across Toriko’s face like the sun breaking through clouds.

  
  


“You mean it?”

  
  


“Yes.”

  
  


Like a flash, Toriko was out of his chair and skidding onto his knees next to Komatsu, who recoiled in surprise for a moment before he realised that Toriko was reaching for him, his huge arms curving around Komatsu’s torso until Toriko could lay his head on his little partner’s shoulder. Komatsu wrapped his arms around as much of Toriko as he could reach and felt a thrill of happiness pass through him, making his skin tingle.

  
  


As often happened, the stupidest possible thing came out of his mouth. “Rin-san’s going to be so cross with me.”

  
  


Toriko laughed against his shoulder, little warm huffs of breath going down the collar of his shirt. “She’ll live,” Toriko said, and then Komatsu felt the press of warm, moist lips against the side of his neck and his toes curled up inside his shoes.

  
  


Suddenly curious and excited and scared in equal measure, he tugged on Toriko’s hair until he pulled back, stared dumbly into his partner’s eyes until he got the message, then tilted his head to one side to let Toriko kiss him.

  
  


Lovely.

  
  


Toriko’s mouth was wide and hot, bearing the flavours of alcohol and smoke and something that a part of Komatsu’s mind registered as Silk Bird meat. His pointed tongue gently touched Komatsu’s teeth and the insides of his lips, and they smiled against one another’s mouths.

  
  


Time rushed by like water while they kissed, and when they finally drew apart Komatsu was sure that the light coming through the window had changed. Toriko’s arms stayed around him, their strength comforting in a way he’d never have expected, not from a lover.

  
  


“You really didn’t need to get drunk to tell me, Toriko-sa-”

  
  


“Not ‘san’.”

  
  


“You really didn’t need to get drunk to tell me, Toriko. Even if I hadn’t felt the way I do, I wouldn’t have made fun of your feelings, or anything like that.”

  
  


“I know,” Toriko replied, tucking his face back into the curve of Komatsu’s neck. “Next time I say it, I promise I’ll be totally sober. Okay?”

  
  


“Okay. Umm...when will that be?”

  
  


Toriko was silent for a few seconds, then Komatsu felt him smile against his skin.

  
  


“How about tomorrow morning?”

  
  


“...okay.”

  
  



End file.
